Death and Baba Yaga
by Quatermass
Summary: After dealing with the Tarasovs, a bleeding and exhausted John Wick is visited by one of his oldest companions in his dark life. But has Death of the Endless come to claim him, or to give him a second chance?


**FOREWORD**

 _It was whitetigerwolf's challenges, as well as a few fanfics (including gunman's) that got me onto the action film_ John Wick _. Having just watched it, I wanted to do at least one fanfic for it. I've also been meaning to do a fanfic for my favourite comic series,_ The Sandman _, for some time. This is the result. Admittedly, this sort of one-shot, where Death of the Endless meets a dying character from the crossover, has been done so many times before, but hey, it's a good one._

 _Anyway, time for the disclaimers. Firstly, there will be annotations, and I don't want to hear any bellyaching._

 _Secondly, there will be spoilers for_ John Wick _.  
_

 _Finally, this is a fan-written work._ John Wick, The Sandman _, and the characters and scenarios are property of their respective owners. Please, support the official release. Otherwise, Dream will give you a fitting and horrifying punishment…_

* * *

 **DEATH AND BABA YAGA**

He knew she would come, inevitably. He had met her many times during his dark and sordid career, a career that even now haunted him. And here he was, beginning to truly suffer from the wound from Viggo's knife…even if he had taken the hit willingly to kill Viggo.

The man had dark hair, framing lugubriously handsome features. The facial hair put people in mind vaguely of a skull. He was dressed in a dark suit, stained with blood, some of it his own, and some of it his enemies'. He was in immense pain, but he was used to that by now. Too used to it.

Where had it all gone wrong? Had that been Viggo's fault, for not educating that spoiled brat of a son of his? If Iosef hadn't been greedy, or he hadn't tried to use, say, a dealership or the internet to find a good car, so many people would still be alive, including Viggo and Iosef Tarasov.

John looked at his decisions over the past little while. Many people would have thought that his response was disproportionate. It was, after all, over a car (stolen by Iosef and his thugs) and a dog (killed by Iosef and his thugs, just because Daisy was making too much noise). But people didn't realise what those things were to John.

Daisy had been a final gift from his wife, a gift he had only managed to enjoy for a day. Helen had given Daisy to him (via posthumous delivery) so that he'd have someone to love him in Helen's absence. Helen knew little about John's true profession…but she knew enough. And she had loved him in spite of the fact that his hands were drenched in blood. Because she had believed that, deep beneath the mask of Baba Yaga, there was a man worth loving. She was his tether to humanity, not the grotesque rotten cesspool he had been submerged in for much of his life, but the parts that lived in the light, the parts that did a normal nine-to-five job, blissfully (and wilfully?) ignorant of the dark undercurrents, beyond even the likes of Viggo and his organisation.

As he tried to focus on the video his smartphone was playing, of happier times, he finally heard it. The sound of footsteps. Part of him welcomed it. If there was someone coming to finish him off, let them. He had killed Viggo (he would have left him alone to mourn his son if the stupid bastard hadn't killed Marcus and then told John about it), he had killed Iosef, and he had gutted their gang. If he was going to die here, then he would.

"You're getting blood on the screen, you know," said a soft, gentle voice. A female voice. One he had heard before. In a perverse way, he was privileged. Few got to hear this woman's voice even once during their lifetime, let alone multiple times.

He didn't need to look to see what she looked like. Skin ridiculously pale, like snow. Hair as dark as night, a messy nest framing pretty features. Eyes made up, with one of them having a distinctive decoration that made it resemble the Eye of Horus. A black singlet, black jeans, and a necklace of an ankh. She looked like some cheerful goth girl, even if her skin was unhealthily pale.

But John Wick had met her before. He knew her of old. This was no human.

This was Death, the second oldest of the entities known as the Endless.

Death sat down next to him, watching the video. "…I'm sorry," she said quietly.

John nodded painfully. She had appeared to him the night Helen died…taking her away with the sound of dark wings beating. "…Is it true? What Viggo said? That I am cursed? That Helen's death was divine punishment for my sins?"

"…Sadly, it was more cruel luck, John," Death said quietly. "Just as it was cruel luck that Iosef was at that gas station while you were filling up your car." She grimaced. "The moment I came to collect him, he tried to grope me. Viggo…he was more respectful, I'll give him that. Sometimes, that's what the universe is like: cruel happenstance conspiring to hurt you."

"…Is Helen disappointed in me? For falling back to my old ways?"

"Disappointed, yes. Angry…no. She forgives you." Death shook her head. "But if you're not careful John, you'll be walking a bloody path, leaving a trail of bodies in your wake, just like you did before. I like you, John. Not because you cause death…I see so much every day, it isn't funny. But I like you because…well, deep beneath the Baba Yaga…there's someone who wants to have a normal life."

"I can never have a normal life."

"What's normal?" Death shrugged. "Even here on Earth, the idea of what is a normal life varies from person to person, and don't get me started on other worlds. But I think, if things go right, you can have a quiet life." She indicated the video playing, with John only noticed was playing at slow speed. And, he noticed detachedly, he could see his own body, slumped on the ground.

"But…am I dead?"

"It's up to you, John. I just brought you into this realm to talk. But…here's a few things. Firstly, you're quite close to a vet's. You could patch yourself up there. And there's always an animal you can take for your own. Like one of those left to be put down, if only because nobody wants to claim it. Secondly…do you think Helen would want you to give up?"

As if in agreement, John heard Helen on the video telling him she wanted to go home. He rallied, getting off the ground, spikes of pain stabbing through every inch of his body. Death was right. Helen would want him to fight on, just as she had.

As he got painfully back to his feet, he heard Death say, "Good luck, John." Then, she faded, as was her wont to do.

It was ironic that one of the few who believed in John's essential humanity wasn't even human…but John Wick had been walking alongside death ever since he started down this path. At least when his time finally came, he had some small consolation that his passing would be in comforting company, no matter what his ultimate destination was…

 **THE END**

 **STORY ANNOTATIONS:**

 **Unfortunately, Death, considering what happens in the sequel, maybe you shouldn't have wished him luck.**

 **Not much to say here. This is easily my shortest one-shot ever. I hope to do a longer story in the world of** ** _John Wick_** **, perhaps using one of whitetigerwolf's challenges.**

 **No numbered annotations.**


End file.
